


Slowly, Now

by worldwars



Category: Coronation Street
Genre: Canon Rewrite, F/M, Fix-It, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4356779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldwars/pseuds/worldwars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carla. A baby. And a man she is beginning to see in a new light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She sleeps soundly on the plane, fingers which are not quite as tiny as they once were clinging to their mother's in a way that could melt even the hardest of hearts. She is fine when they land. Manchester is its usual rainy self and perhaps this comes as a comfort to her. At first, Carla had hated taking Hayley out in the sun whilst they were in LA. The thought of her overheating or burning herself had been too much for Carla to bear – but with a little bit of encouragement from Suzy, they had muddled through, and by the end of the first week, Carla could see that the sunshine was doing Hayley as much good as it was doing her. She seemed happy; her giggles by the side of the pool fueling Carla's love for her, a love which seems to grow more and more with each day that passes.

When they reach the airport, the holiday really does come to an end. Hayley wakes; and Hayley isn't happy. If Hayley isn't happy, neither is Carla – and the fact that the airline appear to have lost their luggage does not help matters in the slightest.

"What do you mean by 'there's nothing we can do other than wait'?" Carla asks. She's tired, jetlagged and in no mood for bullshit.

Hayley is held to her chest. Her eyes are still red from crying, her breath still in the process of being caught.

The girl Carla is talking to is only young. She is obviously inexperienced and not used to such questions. She clears her throat before she speaks.

"All of the bags that were in the aircraft will turn up eventually. It's just a case of when."

Carla nods. It is not in understanding.

"But I need my bags _now_ ," she says simply. Hayley begins to wriggle about in her arms. Her discomfort is obvious. "I also had a pram onboard, you see. An expensive pram my little girl will not be too happy if she can't get her bum into in the next five minutes."

The girl looks genuinely sorry, but this means little to Carla when all she wants to do is go home and sleep.

"We can take your details and give you a call when they turn up," she says. There is something akin to fear in her eyes that Carla duly makes a note of. She decides to let the fight leave her body and take this up with the airline at a later date. "I apologise for any inconvenience this causes."

Carla would laugh if she weren't quite so annoyed.

"Of course you are."

________________________

The driver of the taxi she manages to hail one-handedly with a baby in her arms is one of the most incompetent people Carla thinks she has ever met – and that says a lot when she considers some of the people she has employed over the years. Firstly, he finds it difficult to grasp the concept of Carla having only a handbag, even though she is being picked up from the airport. When she explains to him that the airline have lost her luggage, he says he doesn't believe her, despite having never met her before in his life.

It is the fact that she has to practically drive the taxi towards Weatherfield for him because he is not familiar with the place name, let alone the place itself, that makes Carla regret having not taken Michelle up on her offer of having Steve meet them at the airport.

Two thirds of the way into the journey, Carla notices that Hayley has managed to fall asleep, clutching the teddy bear Peter bought her for Christmas and who Simon affectionately named _Simon_ to her chest. Carla envies her daughter's ability of being able to sleep anywhere and everywhere. She has to fight to keep her eyes open herself and is only aware that she has, in fact, fallen asleep when the taxi driver rudely awakens her – and Hayley – by continuously beeping the car horn. The horn is so loud that it causes vibrations to be felt in Carla's chest.

"We're here, love! Victoria Street."

Hayley lets out a large wail. Anger boils in Carla's veins.

"Nice one," she mutters, getting out of the car. She manages to drop her handbag as she does so, the contents of which spill all over the road. "Oh, for God's sake!"

Her exclamation startles Hayley, who has began to cry. Carla immediately goes to soothe her. She takes her out of the car and places Hayley into her arms. She then looks to the driver for help, indicating with her eyes the mess she has made at her feet, but he pretends not to notice.

"That's £27.50, please," he says, undeterred.

Carla feels like screaming.

"Here. Let me."

Before Carla is even aware of what's happening, Nick Tilsley has paid for her taxi fare and is knelt down on the floor, putting her things back into her bag.

She stares at him as the taxi drives away.

"Hi," she says, looking extremely confused.

"Hi," says Nick. He smiles at Hayley as he stands to his full height. She stops crying immediately and stares at him in a way that mirrors her mother. "Here you go."

He hands Carla her bag, which she accepts from him with a furrowed brow, and places Simon back into Hayley's outstretched arms.

"How was your holiday?" he asks.

Carla nods.

"It was good, yeah." She blinks herself out of it. "Wait a minute. How much do I owe you?"

She goes to retrieve her purse, but Nick shrugs it off.

"You don't owe me anything. It's fine," he says.

Carla shakes her head.

"Don't be ridiculous, Nick." She maneuvers Hayley onto her hip as she rummages through her bag, not recognising its new order – or lack thereof. "You gave him thirty, didn't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"You shouldn't have let him keep the bloody change. He doesn't deserve it."

Nick chuckles.

"Keep your money, Carla. Please." She looks up to be met with a look of genuineness in his eyes that she has never seen before. "Call it my good deed of the day. If it means so much to you, you can pay me back another time, but I can see you've got your hands full right now."

It seems that Hayley knows she is being spoken about, for she gurgles and kicks her legs. Carla smiles at her and places a kiss to the top of her head. Nick waves at Hayley and she waves back at him just a little bit too enthusiastically.

"I'll see you later," he says, walking back the way he came.

"Okay. See you," Carla replies before calling after him, "And thanks!"

He simply smiles and carries on walking.

Carla has to laugh to herself at the absurdity of what has just taken place. It is Tracy who takes her from her thoughts, approaching the two of them with a sickly sweet smile Carla doesn't ever think she will get used to.

"How's my favourite niece?" she asks, taking Hayley's hand.

Carla rolls her eyes.

"She's your only niece, Tracy."

Tracy frowns.

"So?"

"Eh, listen. It might be a while yet before you get it, but I got you a little something whilst we were away," says Carla.

Tracy looks just as confused as Carla still feels.

"It's to say thank you," she explains. "You know, for saving my life that time."

"Oh, that!" Tracy laughs; Carla doesn't. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"Well, I did," Carla replies. "But like I say, I don't think you'll be getting it any time soon."

Tracy nods.

"How come?" she asks.

Carla has to suppress the urge to yawn.

"It's a long story," she says, holding a hand to her mouth. "And I'd love to stay and chat to you about it, but I'm afraid I may actually fall asleep standing up if I stay out here any longer."

________________________

After showering, sleeping, and feeding what turned out to be a very hungry six month old baby, Carla finally manages to build up the courage to check her work emails and, just as she expected, finds that she does not like what she sees.

Hanlon has been on at her again. He wants to place another order with Underworld, but Carla doesn't think she can deal with having another Hanlon-related headache so soon after the previous one. The order would be good for business; there's no denying that. It's just that demanding clients are honestly the last thing she needs right now when Hayley is already demanding so much from her. Maybe she shouldn't have gone back to work so soon after having her, maybe she shouldn't have taken advantage of Ken's kindness and allowed him to dote on his granddaughter in a way he'd never have imagined he'd be able to.

But Carla feels she is nothing if she can't support herself. People aren't wrong when they say that business means everything to her. If she can't work, what can she do?

She sighs, staring at her laptop screen, and wishing that someone would make her mind up for her. Eventually, she reaches for her phone and dials a number she can't wait to delete again.

"Mr. Hanlon?" She forces a smile, even though he is not in the room to see her do so. "Hello! Yes. It's Carla Connor. From Underworld? Yes, I'm fine, thank you. Now, about this order..."


	2. Chapter 2

The bistro is usually busy – but, for once, Carla is glad that it isn't. The quiet gives her the headspace she needs to declutter her brain of all things Hayley and concentrate on what Hanlon is really interested in: women's underwear.

"Are you not having any wine?"

She looks up from her paperwork to be met with a questioning look from Nick. He is standing next to her table, gesturing towards the glass of lemonade she had earlier ordered with a grimace and a longing for something much, _much_ stronger.

God knows how she'll be able to get through this meeting without that strength.

"I can't," she replies. "I'm still breastfeeding and it's _killing_ me."

His eyes widen and Carla realises a moment too late that perhaps she has shared just a little bit much too information. She laughs to herself, wondering where her sudden forwardness has come from. Nick smiles indulgently at her.

"The price of motherhood, eh?"

"I suppose so." Carla shrugs. "It is worth it, though. If I'm being honest, I think that becoming a mother is the best thing that could've happened to me. You know, after everything."

Nick nods. There is something different about Carla that he can't quite put his finger on. Her smiles are wider and she wears them more often. She holds her head up high when out in the street, daring anyone and everyone to say something. Just one word. She knows they're dying to. People are gasping to tell her of their surprise, their disbelief in many cases, that she is a mother and a pretty damn good one at that. Despite all of the doubts and the setbacks and the sleepless nights she spent worrying that she would never be good enough for her child, motherhood _does_ suit Carla. It makes her eyes practically gleam with happiness whenever her daughter is near and it's a beautiful thing to witness.

It has forced many people, including Nick, to swallow their pride and admit to themselves they they were wrong. She can do this. She is doing it every day and she is doing it in the only way Carla Connor knows how to do anything; and that is brilliantly.

"I think so, too," Nick says.

Carla can't hide her surprise.

"Thanks," she replies. "I'm glad I'm not the only one."

Nick nods his head and leaves her to it.

________________________

Hanlon is late, of course.

Hanlon is never _not_ late.

Carla silently fumes in her seat, glancing over at the door every thirty seconds, wishing that he'd just arrive and put her out of her misery. She is about to pack up her things and head for the exit when Nick makes his way over to her, his arms folded across his chest and a thoughtful look on his face.

"Have you been stood up?" There is a hint of mirth in his voice.

"No, of course not!" Carla exclaims. She then lets out a big sigh. "Oh, I don't know! I don't ever know anything when it comes to this particular client."

"A bit of an handful, is he?"

Carla snorts.

"You don't know the half of it." But that isn't necessarily true. She pauses upon realising this, a smirk crossing her lips and a memory springing to mind that she doesn't think she'll ever forget for as long as she lives. "Actually, I think you might. Do you remember a Mr. Hanlon? Guy in a wheelchair, receding hairline? He's got a wife he hates. One of them faces you just want to slap."

Nick does remember, he _must_ remember, for he has suddenly gone rather quiet. He is trying not to give himself away.

"Um..."

Carla begins to laugh.

"Yeah, you do! And I bet you also remember that meeting, don't you? That meeting when you peeved him off so much, you lost us the order, and he ran over your foot on the way out."

She is grinning, attempting to hold back her laughter before it becomes hysterical. Nick blushes. He rolls his eyes and finally admits that, "Alright, yes! Okay! Of course I remember. How could I forget? It really hurt, you know!"

Carla covers her face with her hands in an attempt to calm herself down.

"God, you were so useless," she says, but not unkindly. It's strange to think of that time now. So much has happened since they were unlikely and reluctant partners in a business only one of them really had the ability to make succeed. (And did.) It almost feels like that partnership existed in a different life, for they were, essentially, different people back then. "I used to hate you, you know."

She says this softly. She says this with honesty.

Nick smiles despite himself.

"I know," he says, looking rather amused. "I used to hate you, too."

________________________

Carla waits for Hanlon to arrive, but he doesn't – proving her wrong for the first time in their seven year acquaintance. Despite losing the order before it has even been drawn up, she is glad. It gives her the night off to spend how she pleases. No business, no Hayley; just herself, a nice bottle of non-alcoholic wine, and any DVD she so chooses to watch.

After paying the bill and making it half way home, she is surprised to find that Nick is walking in the same direction as her, albeit on the other side of the road.

"Hey!" she calls over to him. "Where are you going? It was heaving in there when I left."

She points back at the bistro. Nick smiles at her in rather a smug manner.

"I know!" he calls back. "That's why I've left Leanne to it! It's my night off."

Carla nods.

"Nice," she says. "You heading home, then?"

"Yeah!"

Nick crosses the road to walk with her, the constant shouting over the traffic beginning to turn the heads of passersby.

"Are you not going to pick Hayley up?"

They have walked past number one.

"No." Carla shakes her head. "Ken offered to have her for the night and I couldn't refuse."

Nick snorts. Couldn't and _didn't want to_ are two completely different concepts.

"What?" Carla rolls her eyes. "I couldn't!"

Nick doesn't look too sure about this.

"Whatever you say," he sings.

They smile at each other, a little unsure as to why they are conversing in the first place, and carry on walking. They soon reach the flats; and once indoors, their talking stalls and they begin to feel very awkward in one another's company. It seems they hadn't thought this far ahead and it is obvious.

They pass Nick's flat first.

His eyes flicker between Carla and the door. His hands are in his pockets, fishing around for the key to his flat in a manner as discrete as he can manage. He doesn't know what to say, so it is a good job that Carla does.

"Enjoy your night off."

Nick nods.

"You too," he replies.

It takes her a moment to realise what he is talking about, but the lack of baby spit on her shoulder should have been a dead giveaway. She decides to blame her obliviousness on the sleep she has yet to catch up on.

"Yes." Carla smiles at him. "Yes, I will. Thank you."

________________________

Carla spends most of the next morning in bed, a luxury she had almost forgotten existed. She isn't hungover, of course; but the jetleg doesn't seem to have left her quite yet. Her first thought is of Hayley. She finds herself wondering whether she is still jetlagged, too, before rolling her eyes at the thought, for babies can't be such things – at least, not in the same way that adults can.

She dresses slowly, taking her time in choosing what to wear. It's a Sunday and it feels like one; lazy, inconsequential. Carla almost trips on one of Hayley's toys on her way to the kitchen and it is this stumble that makes her abandon the idea of producing her own breakfast, instead opting to have Roy make it for her once she has collected Hayley from Ken's.

Carla has missed her friends. She doesn't have many of them, but the ones that she has found in Roy and Michelle are for life. This, she knows. Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, she texts Michelle to see if she can meet her in the cafe for a catchup. She can, it seems. Carla smiles and reaches for her makeup bag.

________________________

"How was she, Ken?"

Hayley is awake in her arms, kicking her legs increasingly – almost as if in protest – as Carla walks her closer to the door.

"She was an angel," Ken says. As if she could be anything but.

Carla smiles her appreciation and bids Ken goodbye. She then steps out onto the street, where she almost steps into the very man she had managed to avoid only minutes earlier. They had left their respective flats at pretty much the same time, and Carla had not been in the mood for sharing small talk so soon after the night before. They had ran out of things to say so quickly. The awkwardness had been painful.

"Hello!"

"Hell— _Oh_."

Nick's greeting had actually been for Hayley, not Carla. Why this bothers her she cannot say.

"Are you stalking me?" The question automatically falls from her lips and Nick grins at it, his eyes moving from Hayley to Carla so quickly that it almost takes Carla aback. _Almost._

"Don't flatter yourself," he says, but she can tell her even suggesting the idea has done more than flatter him. "We live in the same building. We work on the same street."

Carla rolls her eyes and bounces Hayley on her hip.

"Funny that. I'd never realised."

And perhaps there is some truth in that.

Perhaps there is more truth in it than Carla would ever care to admit.

"You off home, then?"

She shakes her head at his quiet question.

"No. We're off to Roy's," she says. Hayley lifts her head from her mother's shoulder to stare at Nick, though he doesn't seem too put off by this. He simply smiles at her, brightly.

Nick then nods.

"Well, enjoy."

There is nothing else to say and the conversation _could_ have reached a natural end – but Carla, despite not wanting to, prolongs it; prolongs the agony.

"You're not heading into work at this time on a Sunday, are you?" she asks, to which Nick laughs just a bit too enthusiastically for her liking.

"No, no. Of course not. I'm off to my mum's." She should've known. The corners of her lips pull into a smirk that he pretends not to notice. "It's Sunday. 'Family day'."

Her eyes widen and she laughs uneasily. He uses air quotes and everything.

"Oh, I see." She nods her head. "You know, I do love a good Sunday roast."

"Me too." Carla can practically feel the awkwardness creeping back up on them, breathing down her neck in a way that is less than comfortable; so she is thankful that Nick has the sense to end the conversation she should've ended herself when she was given the opportunity to. "Well, I'll see you later, then."

"Are you working tonight?"

The words leave her mouth before she is able to stop them.

This makes Nick, who had already began to walk in the opposite direction to Carla, to spin around on his heel to face her again.

"Sorry?"

Carla can feel her face burning. "Tonight. Are you working?"

"Yes, I am." Nick smiles sheepishly. He looks amused, something which Carla does not appreciate when she is feeling this embarrassed. "Why do you ask?"

_Ugh._ She doesn't even know.

"No reason," Carla says. So why can she think of plenty?


	3. Chapter 3

Hayley's giggles can be heard from the other room, accompanied by the sound of Michelle's laughter; Michelle, who has been fussing over her since the moment they first laid eyes on each other in the cafe. Hours have passed since then, and they are back at Carla's flat. It is now evening, it is now _tonight_ , and Carla is beginning to regret ever opening her mouth when she was with Nick earlier, for she now feels morally obliged to visit him at work. She isn't entirely sure why. All she knows is that it would be rude not to. Maybe he is expecting her. Maybe if she doesn't turn up, he'll be disappointed. She's overthinking it. She knows she is. But this knowledge does little to ease her nerves.

"Carla!"

Michelle interrupts her from her thoughts. She pokes her head around the bedroom door and smiles warmly at her friend.

"What are you doing in here?" she asks.

Carla looks down at the ten and twenty pound notes in her lap. She has taken them out of her purse without conscious thought. She folds the edge of one, just to give her something to do.

"I need to head out somewhere," she says, the words rushed, forced out of her mouth quickly before she has time to _think_ and change her mind.

Michelle frowns.

"What?"

"You can look after Hayley for me, can't you? I'll be an hour tops." Carla stands suddenly from the bed and goes to retrieve her heels. Michelle's eyes follow her as she makes her way around the room. Carla doesn't have to look at her to know that she is frowning. "I just need to go and see someone."

"Who?"

They catch each other's eyes. Carla looks away quickly, as if the answer lies within her gaze; something which Michelle finds intriguing. Very intriguing. If she didn't know Carla any better, perhaps she would mistake her expression for one of shyness.

"No one," Carla says.

But Michelle isn't convinced.

"I will get it out of you, you know," she sings. She looks – and sounds – rather smug.

Carla simply rolls her eyes, grabs a lipstick, and kisses Michelle on the forehead.

"I'll be an hour tops. Promise."

________________________

Sunday nights are often quiet in the bistro and tonight is no exception. After the rush at lunchtime has passed and the restaurant has emptied itself, Nick finds he has very little to do. It is Leanne's night off, a given since she is the one with a child and he is the one without, and Steph and Gavin are never much fun when they are working together, both far more interested in each other to take note of anything or anyone else.

Nick leans against the bar, having poured himself a drink. He wants to call what he is currently on a break, but he hasn't done anything in the past hour more strenuous than clearing glasses and cleaning tables, so what he is taking a break from he can't really say. With a sigh, he lifts his glass of orange juice to his lips and is about to take a sip when the door creaks open. A gush of cold air follows Carla as she enters, or rather bursts into, the bistro. She hasn't changed since the morning; her heels the same, shirt the same, jeans the same. And yet Nick finds he cannot take his eyes from her. They take her in as if it is the first time he has seen her in such a way and he has to take a sip of his drink just so he can speak, his throat suddenly very dry.

Carla smiles as she notices his staring, though she tells herself she is imagining most of it, especially the way his eyes rake over her before they settle on her face, his soft smile matching her own. She places her bag down onto the bar beside him and brushes her slightly windswept hair out of her face. It has gotten progressively less straight as the day has gone on, but Nick thinks it suits her more in this way. Not straight and not curly; just so. Natural is the word for it, he supposes.

"Hi," she says. Her voice is somewhat quiet as she reaches into her bag.

"Hello," says Nick. He moves to stand behind the other side of the bar so that he can serve her. "Can I get you a drink?"

She thinks on this for a moment, but then decides against it. She doesn't, however, answer his question. Instead, she places the ten and twenty pound notes she'd gotten out earlier onto the bar and pushes them towards Nick. He looks confused. He dares to touch the edge of one.

"What's this?" he asks.

"Money." Nick laughs at that. She elaborates, "You know, for the taxi? From the other day?"

It clicks.

"I thought I'd told you to forget about that."

"Yeah. Well, I didn't." She picks the notes back up and places them into his hand. "Take it."

He sighs.

"Carla," he begins.

"Nick, just take it. Please."

There is no way he can't. Not when she is throwing him a stern look he quickly comes to realise he has missed being on the receiving end of.

"Fine." This sigh is louder than his previous one. He takes the money and stuffs it into his jacket pocket. "Thank you. So..."

Carla smiles.

"You know what? You can get me that drink if you want."

Nick nods.

"A sparking lemonade, is it?" He is smirking at her, but this isn't the reason she is so unamused. She is unamused because he is right.

"You're not funny," she informs him.

"Okay. Fine. But it is, though, isn't it?"

Carla huffs and folds her arms across her chest.

"Yes," she admits, her lips pursed.

________________________

For some reason, when Nick shows her to her table, he decides not to leave it and takes the seat across from hers. They sit in a silence that isn't what one might call comfortable, but it certainly isn't as awkward as Carla had been expecting it to be. She sips on her lemonade and he sips on his orange juice. She wants to laugh at how sensible this encounter feels. She's still not used to going without alcohol in social situations such as these. Thank goodness she'll soon be able to consume it again.

Nick places his glass down on the table and looks up at her.

"So, tell me. Who've you gone and palmed Hayley off onto now?"

His question is so direct and so unexpected that she almost chokes on her drink. She shoots him daggers.

"She is currently having some long overdue cuddles with her Auntie 'Chelle," she informs him. "Come on, Nick. I could hardly bring her with me, could I?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean, Hayley's well behaved from what I've seen. Very well behaved. Her mother, on the other hand..."

This earns him a slap to the arm. He groans as if in pain and then he chuckles, grinning at her in a way that makes her want to grin back. (She doesn't.)

"Excuse me," she says.

"What?" He is still laughing, holding his hands up in a form of surrender. "I'm just saying!"

Carla is about to reply to him when the shrill of his phone ringing interrupts them. He looks at her apologetically, mouthing a quick, _sorry_ , before he answers it.

"Hello? Yes. What? Sarah, no. I've already told you that I haven't. Don't be ridiculous. If I had, do you really think I'd deny you of it? It'd help me out as well as —" He sighs loudly, having obviously been cut short and interrupted. "Yeah. Right, okay. I just told you that, didn't I? Okay. Yes, Sarah. Whatever. I'll see you soon. No, not tonight. No, I'm working. Sarah! Sarah, don't put the—"

But she has already hung up. Carla's glass is now empty, she having been drinking from it almost continuously throughout the course of the phone call.

"Family troubles, eh?" she asks softly, already knowing the answer. His sigh confirms this to her. "I'm guessing 'family day' wasn't very..."

"Enjoyable?" Nick laughs incredulously. Deep down, he is slightly in shock that she has even remembered that part of their conversation from earlier, but then it seems she is full of surprises these days. "No, it wasn't. Sarah spent the whole afternoon pestering me for work. David's going out of his mind over this whole custody battle thing. And Mum's just... well, you know how she is."

Carla smiles, a little overwhelmed and unsure of what to say. Nick shakes his head at himself.

"I'm sorry. You don't want to hear all of this."

Her answer surprises even her. "Yes, I do."

And just like that, one hour turns into two.

________________________

Michelle isn't as annoyed as Carla thought she would be when she returns home at nine instead of eight. Hayley is fast asleep in front of the television, her moses basket positioned next to the sofa. The laptop is on the arm of it and is apparently broken. Michelle has never looked more guilty and Carla quickly comes to realise that this is the reason she hasn't commented on her lateness. She leaves with the promise of sending someone over to fix the laptop the following day, but before Michelle has even closed the door behind her, Carla is already dialling Nick's number and hating herself for it with every ring.

_Why can't she leave him alone?_

The voice in her head sounds a lot like Nick's.

A loud knock against the door a few minutes later causes Hayley to stir. Carla stands from the sofa and curses under her breath, running a soothing finger down her daughter's cheek before she goes let Nick in.

"Keep the noise down, will you?" she hisses. "I've a sleeping child here and I'd very much like for her to stay that way."

Nick enters the flat and makes a point of being quiet. He notices Hayley in the living room and smiles softly over at her. Carla frowns somewhat. His voice is a whisper.

"You can't keep away from me today, can you?"

Carla ignores him completely. She does not like the truth in his words.

"What do you know about technology?"

She walks over to the sofa, where the dead laptop is currently sitting. She places herself down upon it and Nick does the same. He is mindful of Hayley, who is sleeping by his feet. He places the computer onto his lap and attempts to switch it on.

"Not a lot," he admits. "How come?"

"Oh." Carla doesn't try to hide her disappointment. "It's just that Michelle thinks she's broken the laptop whilst I was out and I kind of need it to be working. You know, for work and that."

Nick nods, slowly.

"Well, I can certainly try and fix it," he says, to which she smiles. He runs his hand across the keyboard and frowns when nothing happens.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Carla replies.

________________________

It turns out that Nick isn't as much as a computer whizz as Carla had bigged him up to be in her head. The laptop remains broken and Nick remains in her flat. Some trashy television show plays quietly from the box, a show so trashy it seems to have sent Carla to sleep. She is hunched up in the corner of the sofa, her head resting against one of her hands, which is laid flat against the arm. Nick smiles at how peaceful she looks. His visit to her flat has been worth it if only for her promise of finding Sarah something to do at the factory. That's one of his problems resolved, at least.

There is a slight chill in the air despite the spring month they are currently in, so Nick stands and looks around for a blanket to cover Carla with, having noticed the goosebumps prickling at her bare arms. He quickly locates one and throws it lightly over her. She doesn't move as he does so, something which fills Nick with relief. He reaches for the remote to switch off the television and as he does so, he hears the sound of kicking at his feet.

Nick looks down at Hayley and notices that she is now wide awake. She stares up at him with wide, sleepy eyes so alike in colour to her mother's that it is almost off putting. He smiles at her and reaches for one of her outstretched hands, his smile only widening as she tightly squeezes his fingers. Nick is at a loss for what to say, knowing that he could so easily break the peace if he says so much as a word wrong. Instead, he stays silent and simply holds her hand. His experience with babies (and children in general) is so limited that his heart feels as if it is going to beat out of his chest at the thought of upsetting the one that is currently clinging to his hand. The thought of upsetting her mother as a result is even more terrifying to him, for he does not know how she can be when she is sleep deprived, and he does not wish to find out.

"You can hold her if you like."

He lets out a sharp breath. He hadn't realised that Carla had woken. Her eyes are only half open and she is further burrowing herself into the blanket Nick had laid on top of her. She is staring at Nick, staring at how transfix her daughter appears to be by him. Nick does not take his eyes from Hayley as he speaks to Carla.

"No. We're alright, aren't we?" he says in a soft voice she knows isn't directed at her.

Carla closes her eyes again, as if to go back to sleep.

"Don't let her keep you," she murmurs. "She'll hold you all night if you let her. She's like that. Clingy, easily amused."

Nick turns his head to look at Carla. His face looks so content, his smile so genuine. She sighs softly, a strange type of happiness welling in her chest.

"I honestly don't mind," he whispers. And she believes him.


End file.
